"The contract is complete," she said softly.
To hide the weakness in her voice, he realized. She wasn't able to walk at more than a crawl, and she certainly didn't feel like she could manage to lift a thing. She was just a cloth-covered skeleton! One who was tortured for the data in her mind.
But they all did it, the other technician had said. The man had acted like it wasnormal.Granted, Sin had heard of neurojocks becoming addicted to the feeling of their own thoughts and wasting away. Maybe that was why OutLink kept the Ingénue under robes? Because they were all so addicted to their own minds they forgot to care for themselves and ended up as walking skeletons who might terrify their clients? It would explain some of her previous comments.
He didn't say a word as he guided her to the elevator and away from the building. With each step, she seemed to tremblemore, only his hand under her arm holding her up. As soon as the building was out of sight, he paused, his grip holding her up while she swayed.
"You ok, Princess?"
"Yes, Legate," she mumbled.
"By ok, I mean able to stand on your own."
She took a long breath. "Not at this time, Legate."
"Yeah." He glanced around them. His client was weak, so now would be a perfect time to strike if someone really was after her. "How do you usually deal with this?"
"My previous handler ignored the repercussions of high-volume data transfers. I've always made it back to the Enclave. Often, my skin was marred enough for the technicians to record the damage."
"Fuck," he growled. "Yeah, well, I'm not your previous handler. So, Ingénue, how would you recommend I accommodate a small woman with physical instability in the open city?"
She straightened slightly, taking a long breath. "I would recommend you walk slowly, preferably toward the Garden District, Legate."
"Sounds like a plan." He shifted his hand to something a bit more comfortable but still supportive.
Slowly, just like she'd recommended, he escorted her to the Garden District, only two blocks over. Massive trees and large pots of flowers were everywhere. He found a bench situated between two of them and gestured to it.
"Figured you wouldn't mind if I stop for a smoke," he said, remembering how she'd said she liked the smell.
Her answer sounded remote but her eyes lit up. "Legate, please feel free to conduct yourself like normal."
He chuckled a bit at that. "Princess, I don't usually smoke around clients, but you're just so damned charming all the time,I figured you wouldn't say shit. Sit down, you make me nervous standing like this."
"Yes, Legate." Her eyes glanced up to him quickly, crinkles at the corners.
He could play her game too. He'd been assigned to politicians and political rebels, to prisoners and police. He could blend with any aspect of society, and that included playing the part of an egotistical priest annoyed with his less-than-personable client. Because if she'd switched to bot-mode again, it likely meant they were under surveillance. The bigger question was how she always seemed to know.
He pulled a pack of smokes from a pocket on his thigh and lit one. Sucking in a long drag, he enjoyed the bite of nicotine on his tongue. It and caffeine were the only vices he was allowed. No alcohol, no hallucinogens, and no mind-altering drugs. He could indulge in caffeine and nicotine, nothing else. Well, he did have an addiction to reading, but that was encouraged in the church.
The Ingénue watched him exhale, a tendril of smoke sliding between his lips before dispersing. "You know," he said, pointing to the pot beside her, "those flowers were brought from Earth." He shrugged. "Well, not thoseexactones, but that species. Called daisies. The tree over there? It was planted when New Cincinnati was founded. There's one just like it in New Sydney and New Toronto. Each one came from the old version of the cities the towns are named for."
"I did not know that, Legate."
He took another drag to hide his smile. Her voice sounded bored, but her eyes sparkled. "Yep. Hundred and thirty-four years old. Ours is an oak. New Toronto has some kind of cedar, and New Sydney has a pine. The entire garden center is dedicated to the colonists who made the first trip from Earth to Tyche."
She nodded, taking all in. Sitting seemed to be exactly what she'd needed. Her color was returning, what little of her he could see, and she was sitting up easier. He decided to keep going. Besides, the longer he talked, the slower he smoked.
"Yeah, the first trip was when the Legion was founded. The colonists decided their religions weren't really different—they simply used different words to describe the same thing—and there weren't enough of them to fill a single church, so they just kinda banded together." He chuckled. "There's a bit more to it than that, but I'm sure you aren't a believer."
"Religion is not an acceptable course of study, Legate."
"Why not?"
"It is impossible to look at it objectively, Brother Sin. One can neither prove nor disprove the existence of a god. Hence, it would be a waste of resources for the Ingénue to contemplate."
He nodded and lifted his smoke to his lips, thinking that over. "Maybe the point of religion isn't to know, but to feel?"
Her eyes narrowed. "I do not understand the question."
